Actuality
by Esper Kay
Summary: Her company looks deep in thought for quite a time, finally piercing her with an unshakable gaze as he asks, "How do you know when there is love?" Fluffy Roxiné, pre-KHII.


_So yes, if you don't know me-which most of you don't-writing outright fluff is very uncharacteristic of me. Especially if it's a canon pairing. I'm weird like that. Also, please ignore the fact that Naminé didn't meet Roxas before Twilight Town. I wrote this before 358/2 Days came out, and up until then you could just assume they had met before and Roxas had just forgotten with the rest of his amnesia._

* * *

"What is that you draw?"

Standing in the doorway is, as the others say, The New One. Or, they whisper with narrowed eyes, The Inferior. The Unworthy. For once, there is something that they hate more than her-at least for the moment. This cheers her empty heart, somehow.

She has not seen him before now, but she instantly recognizes the prominent traits in him that could also be applied to Sora and the fainter ones that could not. His same ice blue eyes, but lighter hair. Same shaped body, but huskier voice. Face that would be attractive if not for the scowl and hostile glare seemingly etched into his features, body language echoing these aggressive sentiments.

The New one is not patient. "I asked what you drew," he says with an edge to his low voice, gesturing at the paper and crayons on the floor. His language is that of a young child's, small words the only ones he is capable of using, the syllables often slow and broken up. His accent is also strange, unlike his brothers and sister. But he is new, says the leader. Give him time. You were once this way.

She stares into his eyes and meekly holds up her sketch. "The beach," she whispers, as loud as her voice allows.

A foreign word, she realizes, as confusion crosses his bitter face. He remembers nothing, then, that would connect him to his Other; perhaps even something as common as air is a mystery to him. She feels a pang for sympathy for him at that moment. Even she that has so little has the comfort of being able to memorize even the most insignificant of Sora and Kairi's memories; maybe she is even a little to blame if she has half of what should be his.

It is this line of reasoning that causes her to compose herself and try to explain. "The beach," she repeats. "It's beside the ocean…and people go there to swim and play." And boys race and girls splash and uncompleted rafts float. But he would not understand those words and the topics that they would lead to would not be pleasant, so she swallows them.

"Ocean. Swim. Play," he mimics, matching her tone, moving his lips for the "wuh" sound, opening his mouth wide for the "O". But they are merely shapeless, meaningless objects to him. Things he's likely never to see, never to experience.

He walks over to her, hesitates, then slowly lowers himself to sit down beside of her. She shyly hands him the drawing and he takes it with equal caution, fingers tracing over the individual objects in the picture. After a few minutes his brow furrows as he attempts to make his next question remotely understandable.

"How do you see the ocean?"

"You go there. There are a lot of-"

"No, no, see-" he emphasizes, pointing at his eyes, waving at her paper, imitating her drawing technique.

"What does the ocean…look…like?" she tries.

"Yes. What does it look like," he copies stupidly. "Draw it."

Concluding that she has no choice, she finds a fresh sheet and draws a basic wave shape in blue pencil across the width of it. Presenting the drawing to him, he snatches the paper away, surveys it, then folds it into a square and pushes it into his pocket.

Stunned, she is even more hesitant to obey his even-more forceful command of "swim." But she obeys as best as she can, and reasons to herself that this unappreciative audience of one is better than none at all. She even adds a pier and a sunrise, going with her Other's memories and evoking even more questions from the almost-boy.

Pier and sunrise leads to sand and fruit trees. Sun and flowers. Houses and caves. School and people. Word by word, she gradually expands his vocabulary and opens his eyes to a drastically different place, far away from where they inhabit. He doesn't ask where her seemingly-abundant knowledge stems from; she is one of the few who will share any precious knowledge with him. And perhaps he is afraid that asking a question such as that will push her away.

Little by little they both lose their rigid body posture, she drawing more freely and he forgetting personal space in favor of leaning his head to the point of just barely not-touching her shoulder. She thinks to herself that this company, while not entirely welcome (she preferring solitude by nature), is not bad. Though solemn and at times rude, he is genuinely interested in listening to what she has to say, a very unfamiliar feeling for the girl. Yes, Naminé thinks, she would like it very much if they could make a habit of this.

He leaves finally, taking with him dozens of pieces of her limited paper and a slowly-surfacing awareness of where he is. At the door he offers a hand in a misguided wave goodbye, no doubt something he has seen his comrades do much more successfully. But it is a start and she gives a small smile and the way he walks out-almost confident, almost _there_-reminds her of HIM and she almost feels guilty. Almost feels sad. Almost.

He comes back days later. His voice is changing, losing the little bit monotone left and warmth seeping in, individuality. His speech is improving and he wants more tales of exotic, maybe impossible things. Soon he wants more than nouns and verbs-he wants the intangible explained. Color, sound, music. Scientific explanations. Her reasoning is flawed, but she offers him her truths as she sees them and he accepts, having no choice but to.

And she starts to see him, as the days pass. The Nobody who is-and yet isn't-like his counterpart. A dreamer, a thinker. Quiet and cold but gentle when one got to know him. A tough barrier to both shield and hide his insecurities invisibly around him. His fear of not being able to measure up to the impossible standards the others have set for him. His visits become frequent and lengthy, smiles beginning to appear and stay. He shares with her his day-to-day duties and she lets him doodle.

"Naminé," he says slowly, still uncomfortable with addressing her so freely. "I heard a new word today."

This is now a rare occurrence. His vocabulary is practically complete, grown substantially now that he has existed a few months with the added bonus of their visits. She waits.

"What is 'happy'? Number IX said he was going somewhere, and that he was happy to be doing that."

The girl meets his eyes and exhales carefully, tapping a crayon thoughtfully to her chin. "An emotion. Something you feel."

"Oh," he says, clearly disappointed. "Then it was a lie. They say we cannot feel." He goes back to a drawing of his own, him and Axel and the younger girl in the Organization watching a sunset.

Yet she knows that what he is saying is wrong. She knows-feels-happiness deep down. It is a new box of pencils. Clean paper. A visit from Roxas. A feeling of being wanted. And his face now, saddened by this lie constantly fed to him, makes her desperate to disprove whatever she must to cheer him up.

"Maybe we can feel…part…of happiness. Like how you act when you have no mission for a day. Or eating ice cream."

"Ah," he understands, nodding thoughtfully. "That may be. Are there more of these…emotions?"

"Yes. Many. Sadness, anger, love-" the last leaves her mouth before she can stop it and she stops noticeably. Noticing her discomfort, he automatically reacts to it.

"Love? What is love? I don't think I have ever heard of it." he asks innocently.

She uses the girl she is based after as she does many times during an illustration, now trying to describe her feelings for the wielder. It is harder, for some reason, to define this. Much harder than telling him about a leaf or a star or even the color wheel.

"It is when you care for a person. Deeply, deeper than maybe anyone else. When you want to spend all of your time with them, when you want to know everything about them. It is like…a combination of all emotions. You are happy, even more so, but also frustrated and confused and shy… " her words being to rush out, she only half aware of what she says as memories take hold and pull her along. Long looks and giggling, whispered secrets. Dreams and drawings and special legends. And so on.

She knows she felt it ever so faintly when she was with Sora in the castle, and that shadow of the emotion was strong enough that it left her in a lasting daze. Imperfect but beautiful, a blossoming flower that would grow in beauty and strength in the years to come. Even if she continued to explain it, she could never do such a simple word justice.

She feels it now, maybe out of her and Roxas' ties to the other two.…Or maybe because of something else she wouldn't dare mention.

Her company looks deep in thought for quite a time, finally piercing her with an unshakable gaze as he asks, "How do you know when there is love?"

Her hands suddenly have a mind of their own as they nervously wipe at stray crayon marks, straighten a crease in her dress, tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "You just…know. Or another person shows it to you and you feel it back."

Roxas is suddenly at her side, close in a way that is awkward but not unpleasant, a look of anguish on his face. "Naminé, I would like very much…no, I would _love_ very much to show this emotion to someone. Please tell me how."

She feels a blush rising to her face, a small hope that this addressed to her, a bigger part of herself afraid that he is doing this for the benefit of another. Surely not Axel, but maybe he feels something for Xion…? She stammers. "I'm not very sure. But…" Think. Think. Kairi entertained romantic notions.

"A kiss," she squeaks.

"A…kiss?" he repeats, once again that boy clumsy with his syllables

She nods. "Two people touch their lips together. It is supposed to be the universal sign of love. It is supposed to be…amazing."

He furrows his brow in disbelief, no doubt finding this a ludicrous act, and turns his body away. The girl feels something inside her shrivel, apparently discovering that his interest was lying with another. She blinks quickly, feeling something like moisture beginning to gather at the ends of her eyes, and goes back to her forgotten picture.

This feeling has begun to recede when the boy turns back and grabs her hand. She freezes and he, oblivious to her shock, holds her pale palm in both of his and waits for her to look at him. "Naminé," he whispers, then clears his throat and tries again, "Naminé."

"Yes?"

"Can…Can I kiss…you?" he more mouths than says audibly.

Her eyes widen and she gives a feeble attempt at a nod mere seconds before he leans in. He closes his eyes but she cannot help but leave hers open as his warm, gentle lips touch hers for a moment, two, three, before slowly drawing away and a blush appears on his cheeks.

Two more breathtaking kisses later-one initiated by him and the last miraculously by her-he looks at her in wonder and asks one last question, his hand on a chest that should have a heart racing within it. "Is this…normal?"

She looks at this boy, who she could maybe-possibly love, who is and is not an individual, who is and is not whole, who is and is not Sora, who is and is not what he should be. But is just perfect for her.

And she smiles and she laughs and she shakes her head, because, just this once, she who has had all the answers before has come up empty.

"I don't know."

* * *

_Reviews are loved._


End file.
